


Such Elegant Weapons

by hallowgirl



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Boris Would Be An Awesome Cosplayer, Crack Fic, David and George Are Best Friends, Gen, George Is A Nerd, Has That Ever Been Said Before, Not what it sounds like, light sabers, no really, they're all nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowgirl/pseuds/hallowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William shakes his head. "Not <em>again."</em><br/>"This is the third time in an hour" says Michael, looking at his watch to emphasize the point.<br/>"It's going to be frightfully embarrassing if this gets out, David" points out Boris, who in the face of the seriousness of the situation, has taken the drastic step of using words with less than twenty-five letters.<br/>David sighs. This was the sort of awkward situation that arose from having the Chancellor of the Exchequer as your best friend. You couldn't send an aide in to deal with <em>personal</em> issues."<br/>George has some habits. They need to be dealt with. Now. Prompted by it being revealed that George Osborne keeps light sabers in the treasury.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Such Elegant Weapons

**Author's Note:**

> This was prompted by it being revealed that George Osborne keeps light sabers in the Treasury. Light sabers. In the Treasury. Yes, that is real. Leave a comment if you like it.  
> And this is when Nick is still DPM, because I like Nick.

William shakes his head. "Not _again."_  
"This is the third time in an hour" says Michael, looking at his watch to emphasize the point.  
"It's going to be frightfully embarrassing if this gets out, David" points out Boris, who, in the face of the seriousness of the situation, has turned to the drastic solution of using words with less than twenty-five letters.  
David sighs. This was the sort of awkward situation that arose from having the Chancellor of the Exchequer be your best friend. You couldn't send an aide in to deal with- _personal_ issues. "Look, he's been stressed" he points out, making sure to look at each of them one by one. "I'm sure all of us have our own- _individual_ ways of dealing with-"  
He trails off as a particularly loud thump comes from the other side of the door. They can all hear it-the gasping, the occasional muttered oath, the rhythmic thuds of something making contact with a wall.  
David sighs. "OK, maybe things have got a _little_ out of hand with George" he says, trying to ignore Michael's pained covering of his ears. "But-we all have our own- _urges-"_  
He turns a pleading gaze to Nick. (Nick's a Liberal-surely _he_ must be open-minded?) But any hope is dashed when Nick sighs and fixes him with a determined look, arms folded, jaw set. "David" he says, the gentle tone of his voice at odds with the look on his face. "I think maybe George's- _special habits_ are getting out of hand."  
David winces. It's going to be him. It's going to be him who has to go in and right now, he'd happily face a crowd of angry Labourites. He swallows. "It's just-what will I say?" Another loud gasp from the other side of the door and Nick chews his lip, a tinge of colour rising in his cheeks.  
David swallows. "I mean-what would any of _you_ feel if someone walked in on you-" Michael, Boris and William are all now avoiding one another's eyes. "Doing _that?"_  
They're all chewing their lips now, avoiding looking at the door, trying to ignore George's voice, interspersed with gasps-"Yes-take that-"  
"Well-" David glares at Boris because this is no time for humour. It does nothing to wipe the grin off Boris's face. "I must admit, Dave, my wife did catch me last week-"  
"That hardly counts" Michael interjects angrily. "It's not as if you even care."  
"Oh, just because your wife finds herself unable to endure the sight of you embroiled in fervour! Mind you, whether I'd call it fervour, in _your_ case-"  
"Would you please stop?" David interrupts. "We've had this conversation so many times."  
He sighs, then grits his teeth, and taking a deep breath, remembers the exercises he uses before making a big speech. It has to be done. For the good of the country.  
"God" he mutters, tugging at his tie. "Here's hoping this goes better than last time."  
William wrinkles his nose. "Oh, _that_ was ugly."  
"It _was_ rather aesthetically unappealing" Boris chips in. "Still, what he lacks in technique, he makes up for in _ardour."_  
As if to prove Boris's point, there's a particularly loud thud against the door and all of them hear George's groan . "Yes... that's it-"  
David closes his eyes as he reaches for the doorknob, and Boris grabs hold of his wrist. "Not now, Dave!" he cries, loud enough that George would hear him if he weren't- _otherwise engaged._ "You might prevent the culmination of the act-"  
"Oh God, don't say that" mutters Michael, who's now trying to hide behind William. "I'm going to have nightmares for days now."  
Nick puts a hand on David's arm. "It's for him, Dave. For George." He swallows. "I mean-Miriam and I went through a stage like this-she thought I was a bit overeager about the whole subject so I had to wait until she was out-"  
"OK." David puts up a hand and then turns to the door. "I do not need to hear any more about you and your wife's- _predilections."_  
Behind him, Boris huffs. "Oh, I see. It's apparently just _me_ banished from an excess of etymological eloquence-"  
Nick sighs. "I was just trying to _help"_ he says, tilting his head towards the door. "I mean-this is perfectly _normal._ Everyone does it."  
"Well-" William interjects. "Not _everyone._ I mean-there must be _some_ people-"  
"Oh, come on" Nick argues, eyebrow arching. "Let's be honest-"  
"Really? We're politicians-"  
Nick rolls his eyes. "Everyone's done it at one stage or another."  
There's another, much louder thud from the other side of the door and David straightens his back. "Right, that's it" he says and grasps the doorknob firmly. He gets one quick glimpse of Michael covering his eyes, with a hissed command of "Tell me when to look!" to William, and then he takes a deep breath and flings the door open.  
_"Yes"_ is the greeting he receives and he has to jump back to avoid a sweaty, blissful-looking George Osborne, falling to his knees at David's feet.  
George's arms are raised, his shirt damp. He's gasping for breath, beaming in triumph, and as David stares down at him, he raises the bright blue light saber triumphantly. "You are _no-one's_ father, Darth Vader" he hisses, before bringing the light saber directly down on David's toe.  
"Ow!" David hops to the side, only for George to glance up at him. "David?"  
"George" David manages through gritted teeth. "You're doing it again."  
George blinks up, looking for all the world like an injured puppy. "I'm sorry" he says, sudden anguish creeping into his tone. "I just-I forgot."  
"It's been three times in the last hour" David sighs. Boris has picked up the light saber and is examining it curiously, whilst Michael is peering over his fingers as Nick bends down to help George up.  
"I didn't mean to" George explains earnestly. "I just-" He swallows and stares at the light saber longingly. "It was taunting me."  
David sighs. "George. You know what we've said in the past-you've got to save Star Wars for outside Parliament. Like the rest of us do." He stares worriedly at his Chancellor. "I mean, honestly, we could hear. How many times did you bang into your desk?"  
George drops his eyes, shamefaced. Nick puts a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, George."  
George nods miserably. He doesn't look as Nick sadly takes the light saber from Boris.  
David too, pats George on the back. "Come on, George" he says, bracingly. "It will still be waiting for you later."  
George's lips twitch into a smile. He straightens up, running his hands through his hair, straightening his tie. Nick passes him his suit and Boris takes the light saber back, now examining it approvingly.  
"Fantastic replica" he says. "When you're saving Princess Leia, aesthetic authenticity is positively required."  
William groans. "We're still trying to _forget_ your aesthetic authenticity."  
Boris swells indignantly. "Those Princess Leia bunches required a great deal of trichological effort and served as a marvellous compliment to my visage."  
William blinks. "Are you making up words?"  
Boris looks as if he might burst and Nick, perhaps sensing the danger, takes the light saber carefully, running his fingers over it. "I never really understood these as well as you" he says, with a placating glance at George, and this, David thinks, this is why Nick would make such a good diplomat. "Aren't they a better weapon or something?"  
George smiles, taking the light saber back from Nick. "They're for the elite Jedis" he explains, and carefully places it back in his desk. Already, David can see the flush fading from his cheeks, his hair neater. He pulls his suit on, and David feels a little cruel for being so harsh. After all, George is George, and if this is what he needs from time to time, there are far worse things he could need.  
"Shall we go?" George is saying now, smiling, and David feels a surge of relief as he pats his friend's shoulder, Nick already leading the way. As they reach the hall, David glances at George, George with his smile, his eyes already focused, his mind clearly working on the figures David knows are always in his brain, and he says "So, what exactly were the light sabers created for again?"  
George sighs. "They're an elegant weapon created for the usage of civilized nations" he says, as if not knowing _this_ constitutes an intimate betrayal of the collective Star Wars fandom. David, however, merely nods. "Ah."  
George nods and moves ahead with Nick, already delving into a discussion of the new financial policies that need to be amended. David stares after them, as he brings up the rear. William and Boris are now engaged in a fierce argument over Princess Leia bunches-"Those bunches were frankly _alarming_ , Boris, even Miliband would agree-" "Clearly, you have no appreciation for the epochal character those bunches served to convey through emblematic depiction!". Michael is still glancing at George fearfully, as if expecting a light saber to be brandished at him any moment. David himself is wondering just how unprofessional it would be to ask George if he could borrow one of those light sabers later.  
_Elegant._ He can't prevent a smirk curling at his mouth. Looking at them all ahead of him, David is fond of them. He is. But he's fairly sure calling any of them _elegant_ would constitute a violation of the Trade Descriptions Act.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's face it, Boris would be the world's most enthusiastic cosplayer.


End file.
